A/N: Hey guys! So I kinda wanted this to be the last chapter but I know that wouldn't go over well so I'll be posting chapter 6 tomorrow to wrap it up.

Chapter 5 : The Funeral

It was odd that waking up in his childhood bed was more disorienting than waking up in the car had been the previous morning. Maybe it was because Blaine was nowhere in sight seeing as he had taken the living room couch or maybe it was because his childhood seemed impossibly far away from where he was now. It was almost cruel to see his once beloved stuffed animals lined neatly on the shelf on the wall beside and be reminded of how his troubles used to be solved by a snuggle session. It wasn't that his problems used to be smaller necessarily, the death of one's mother was a life shattering occurrence at any age, but his mind simply used to be filled with so much hope and innocence and optimism that the belief that everything would work out fine if he just held tight and made it through the night was sufficient.

If a snuggle session wouldn't take his troubles away, lying in bed and having a staring contest with his teddy bear across the room wouldn't either so Kurt eventually decided to get up and face the day ahead of him. It was certainly going to be a long one.

He took an extra long shower, afforded to him because he woke before his alarm. The hot water soothed him slightly but it would have taken another hour or so under the steam to truly relax him. He took his time getting dressed too, breaking out the ironing board and doing his entire shirt because of a few wrinkles that would have been hidden under his jacket anyways. Fashion had always been his thing though, his armour, his means of expression and so just like the shower, he reveled in it as long as he could, stand in front of his full length mirror and fiddling with his tie and collar and cuffs long after they perfect. He only stopped when Blaine knock on his bedroom door.

"You look handsome," his friend commented, walking over and standing next to him in his own suit.

"Thanks," he said with a blush, taking in Blaine's attire. "You too... Are you allowed to look handsome at a funeral?"

"Oh. That does sound weird, doesn't it? I guess it's better than cool or hip though."

"Very true," he nodded with a smile.

"Do you think the bowtie is okay? Is it too happy? Your dad said I could borrow one of his ties."

"Umm," he pondered as looked through the mirror critically at the charcoal gray bow tie on his friend's neck. "No, I think it works. Maybe not on everyone but they're your thing so it should be fine."

"You sure?" Blaine asked, beginning to fiddle with it.

"Yes, it's prefect. Now stop," he berated playfully, batting Blaine's hands away and taking it upon himself to fix the crookedness the fiddling had caused. "There, now you're set."

"Are you set?" Blaine asked and somehow Kurt knew he wasn't talking about his outfit.

"No."

"Yeah, me neither," Blaine sighed and looked around the room as if looking for a way out. Presumably he didn't find one though as he eventually turned back to Kurt with a small, defeated smile. "Come on," he relented and took Kurt's hand, pulling him out of the bedroom and down the stairs towards the kitchen.

Kurt didn't miss the way Blaine let go when they rounded the corner, now within the sight line of his father. It wasn't as if they held hands often but there did seem to be a difference between this time and the last time.

"Bowtie again, Anderson?"

"Yeah," Blaine chuckled in a tone bordering on embarrassment. "I wear'em every day."

"In my office? We'll have to see about this. They're a little… flashy," the suit commented with disdain.

Blaine didn't really have a response for this and Kurt couldn't blame him. He knew if he opened his mouth it would comprise of a string of profanity that would certainly be too flashy for this oh so elegant Christmas party.

"Aww loosen up, Anderson. Here have some champagne."

"No than-"

"Thank-you, Mr. Daws. We'd love some," Blaine cut him off, accepting the offered glass from his superiors. He shoved Kurt slightly, prompting him to do so too.

"Best quality booze for a great party, right?" The suit stated, fishing for a compliment.

"Oh, definitely," Blaine replied with enthusiasm so fake that Kurt's eyes rolled automatically.

"Well enjoy yourselves. The night's just getting started," he bid as he turned back to join the crowd.

"Uhg, I hate champagne," Kurt groaned.

"Here," Blaine offered, pouring his own into the potted plant behind them and doing the same with Kurt's. "All gone. Now, where were we? Okay, what about them? Secretly living a BDSM lifestyle?" Blaine asked, nodding over to one of the other CEO's and his wife who were talking to the couple that Kurt had just declared to be on the brink of a messy divorce due to her way-too-fake bubbly personality and his creepy clown figurine collection.

"Nah," Kurt answered with a shake of his head. He took a sip of his rum and coke, tilting his head and pondering the couple before answering. "They're both secretly having an affair with the African American doorman who they mutter semi racist remarks about to each other."

"You think Mr. Carver is gay?" Blaine asked in disbelief, trying to contain his laughter.

"No. Adventurous. See, they're both still madly in love with each other but they've been putting on such this stiff, prudish, stick-shoved-up-their-ass act for so long that they've honestly forgotten that the other is simply pretending too."

"Oh my god!" Blaine exclaimed. "And what does Mr. Doorman have to say about this?"

"He's conflicted," he stated simply, taking another sip of his drink. "Because you see on one hand, he feels guilty for keeping them from each other but on the other hand, because of the systematic racism in this country preventing him from ever moving beyond doorman status, he cannot find a true love of his own. They are all he has. It's all very tragic."

"You're insane," Blaine stated as he collapsed his head onto his shoulder in attempts to stifle his amusement.

"Yeah well, I still have enough cognitive thought to know this party is a bust. Can we go now? Pleeease!"

"Yeah, yeah. I guess I've made my rounds."

"Thank god!" Kurt exclaimed as he set he downed his drink and followed Blaine to the coat room. His joy however, did not last too long. "You're kidding me! After a never ending night of mindless schmoozing and bad music, it decides to rain," Kurt complained staring out at the dark grey wash of the city while standing still safe in the lobby of Blaine's office after departing the Christmas party. He winced as a cab, its bright yellow colour dimmed, speed through a puddle, spraying a pedestrian with the dirty water that had pooled on the city street. In his opinion, that was a fate worse than death.

"Come on, it wasn't that bad. There was free booze," Blaine pointed out, buttoning up his coat and adjusting his collar.

"And yet I'm not nearly drunk enough to miss the fact that my jacket is going to be completely ruined."

"Well, it's December in New York so whose fault is that?" Blaine asked with a smirk.

"Ugh," Kurt continued, not even paying attention to his friend's jab. "Not to mention my boots. My poor, poor boots. I knew I should have brought an umbrella. This always happ-"

"Oh shut up," Blaine interrupted in friendly banter, grabbing his hand and pulling him out into the street and the rain, towards the subway station.

"Ahhh! Blaine! I'm going to kill you," he shouted feeling the water begin to soak through his socks after Blaine guided them through several puddles.

It wasn't until his socks were completely soaked though and they couldn't get any worse that he was able to see beyond the rain and really realized that Blaine was holding his hand. His grip was tight yet comfortable, like Blaine was in charge and Kurt had no choice but to follow but that was exactly what he wanted to do, what he had always wanted to do. And his hand was warm. His wet clothes had made the New York winter night bite just that extra bit more but his left hand felt as if it was perched cozily in front of a roaring fireplace, greedily soaking up the warmth that radiated from Blaine's right. The more he starred at their clasped hands, suddenly thankful for his friend's guiding skills because that was all could see at the moment, the warmer his entire body began to feel and the more the rain seemed to vanish even though the sky showed no signs of letting up.

The rain only re-entered his radar once they were down the concrete steps and at the turnstiles, under the cover of the subway station, when Blaine had finally let go. He had needed his hand back to fish his metro card out of his pocket.

"See, it wasn't that bad. No melting into the sidewalk ala the wicked witch of the west," Blaine breezed, turning to face him as he walked backwards through the turnstile with a smile.

There was something heart breaking about the ease in which Blaine spoke. Sure, it meant that his friend hadn't minded running through the New York streets with him hand in hand but it also drowned any significance to the gesture. The pang was his own fault though. If the past twenty years had taught him anything, it was that he shouldn't be looking for significance. Blaine's hand had just fit so well and the way he looked back at him, eyes wide, water dripping from his curls, cheeks flushed brilliantly pink from running, and that smile, wide with a hint of a smirk, pulled his mind into its own depths.

That was the difference though. The significance. When Blaine draped his hand then it had been because he had needed it back. But now, it seemed like Blaine had dropped it because he didn't want anyone to see and that made it significant. Of course there were other possibilities for this significance besides the one that had haunted Kurt in the wee hours of the morning for years. For instance, it was entirely possible that Blaine was upset over anticipating the coming day or why the day was coming in the first place and he let go because it's weird for two guys to hold hands and because it's weird for a guy to be upset in the first place. Kurt had to smile though as he accepted a mug of hot coffee from his dad because at least being the person that Blaine could let his guard down around was something.

"Wacha havin'?"

"Coffee's fine. Thanks, dad."

"That's not healthy, kiddo. You need food. You're gettin' too thin, isn't he Blaine?"

Blaine looked up from the paper and gave him a quick once over with a wink. "Nah, he's always been scrawny." His gaze felt heavier from some reason.

"Jesus, I don't know why I trust my kid with you. You're goin' kill him," his dad continued giving Blaine a light smack to the back of his head.

"You'll kill yourself quicker with all that frozen crap in the freezer," Kurt countered pointedly.

"Yeah, yeah. Well it's probably for the best 'cause you boys should hit the road."

The drive to Westerville, the small Ohio town where Sebastian grew up parallel to them, took them an hour and forty five minutes. As sick as Kurt was of the car after the two day drive, the trip was still much too short for his liking. He looked around at the sea of people with sullen expressions in black suits but couldn't seem to pick out any of their friends. He couldn't focus on anyone's face. He didn't know why. Maybe it was because nobody looked like themselves in this situation, or at least themselves that Kurt had known. Grief was simply an emotion that transformed people and took them over in a way, from facial expressions and posture to the way they walked and reacted to those around them. It made them unrecognizable. It took away who they were, the human in them, and turned them into drone like slaves of Death, once oblivious to his existence and now, isolated from society by the binds that kept them on the brink of falling at his feet at Death's every torturous whim.

Or maybe Kurt couldn't pick out his friends because as he looked at the car window, his mind seemed transported back seventeen years.

"Daddy, no," Kurt whined as his father gently stroked his back to coax him from his sleep. He wasn't used to being up this early anymore. His dad had been letting him stay home from school and sleep in since it happened.

"I know, buddy. Trust me, I know," his dad sighed sadly. "We've gotta do this though."

At those words, Kurt remembered exactly why he was being woken up so early. They had to say goodbye today. He peered out from his covers and over to his desk chair to where his suit was pressed and laid out. Last night his dad had helped him with the iron and they had ended up in a fit of giggles when it turned out that Kurt knew more about it than his dad. Watching his mother around the house instead of kicking balls around in muddy grass seemed to be paying off. When his dad had tucked him in last night he had commended his on how brave he was being and asked him to try his hardest to be brave today too because he needed him. And so, Kurt did just that.

He got up, he got dressed, ate breakfast, brushed his teeth, and followed his father out the door and to the car without and further fuss. It wasn't until they pulled up to the cemetery that being brave didn't seem as easy anymore. There were just so many people and dressed all in black they seemed to blend together into a mob of sorts. It was made even worse when they all tuned to stare at him and his father as they walked towards them and the large rectangular hole in the ground that they were all standing around. At times like these, when he was nervous, he would always reach for his mom's hand which would always already be right there waiting for him. He thought about reaching for his dad's but he was busy greeting everyone. Kurt guessed that this is what his dad meant about needing to be brave. His dad had said that it was just for today though but that wasn't really true. His mom would never be there to hold his hand when he was scared again. He would have to stand tall and by himself for the rest of his life.

"Hi Kurt," he a familiar voice greet in hesitance.

He smiled through his water eyes when he saw his friend dressed in his own suit. "Hi."

"Blaine, come take your seat," his mother beckoned. Any sort of reassurance was dashed when Blaine turned to leave. He wanted to protest but to be honest, he was a little afraid of Mrs. Anderson.

"Oh, Jane," His dad turned, interrupting his own conversation with another adult Kurt didn't recognize. "Why don't you let Blaine sit with us? Kurt might need some company when I get up to talk."

"I just don't want him to be a bother."

"You kiddin'? Your kid is the politest boy I've ever known. He's no bother at all."

"Okay then," Mrs. Anderson relented. "I'll see you later then," she said to Blaine before expressing her condolences and turning to take her seat.

"Are you okay?" Blaine asked once his mother was gone.

"I'm scared," Kurt whispered quietly. "Mommy always used to hold my hand when I was scared but now…" he trailed off as the tears began to fall. He turned away from his father a little so he wouldn't think he wasn't being brave.

"Here," Blaine offered, handing him a handkerchief. "I'm really sorry, Kurt."

Kurt just nodded and quickly dabbed away the tears. After handing the handkerchief back to Blaine, he felt Blaine's hand slip into his. It was smaller than his mother's but still fit perfectly ad Blaine gripped just tight enough so that he still felt like he had an anchor.

"It reminds you of your mom's funeral, doesn't it?" Blaine asked as they joined the rest of the guests.

"Yeah," he nodded, trying to keep from tearing up at the memory. Blaine didn't say anything else but just like years before, Kurt felt his friend slip their hands together.

When the ceremony started, a tall, slim girl with straight, chestnut hair and blue eyes made her way to the podium. Still trapped in the past, Kurt couldn't help but think she looked like his mother. He had never seen her age like he had his father and so he had the bitter sweet pleasure of remembering her as forever young. The one thing he couldn't fix in his memory though was her smile. It was ever quite as bright as it showed in old pictures. There was always a sad quality to it. It reminded him of the girl at the podium now. He could tell her smile just days ago had been brilliant but was now, and possibly forever, dimmed. There was a real beautiful quality to her melancholy though. It was like she had found meaning or purpose in her mourning for Sebastian, like she was no longer floating helplessly frantic like he was.

"Hello everyone," she began. "I can't tell you enough how good it feels to see you all here today. This has been an extremely sad and heartbreaking time for myself and my family, sentiments that I know you all share, and so seeing all of you and how much you cared for my brother helps to relieve some of that burden of grief.

It's hard to know but I don't think that that was what he ever wanted. He was so smart and an amazing lacrosse player. I was never a sports person but the way he would talk about the game, the plays, the strategies, made me excited to get up early on weekends to go watch him play. I have even been known to scream and boo and threaten people's testicles over bad calls. Sometimes he'd have to calm me down afterwards. He'd put his arm around my shoulder and let me rant and he'd tell me I was one hundred percent right and that the ref was definitely blind and that eventually he'd get his comeuppance. He would try to say this all in a condescending tone so that it would register how utterly insane I was being but he was never able to quite hide his amusement. His eyes would just be so full of life.

That's how I remember him being, so full of life. It was a snarky life. I remember sitting in the corner of Dad's stuffy, office parties or the country club with him and making up elaborate back stories for those around us. He was always the brazen one and so he would go sneak us booze and we would sit in our corner and laugh for hours. I'm sure all the adults thought we were some sort of delinquent children but we didn't care, or at least he didn't care and when I was with him, I didn't care either. He did that. He brought out the life in me. I've always been a very serious person, worried about school, grades, being responsible, making a good impression. Bastian just took that all away in the best way possible. The best moments of my childhood and adolescents were with him and those memories will be ones that will never fade and that carefree feeling will be something I will now be chasing for the rest of my life.

That was the most amazing thing about my brother. He gave me so much love and light. It never once crossed my mind that maybe it was draining some of his. I'm not sure anyone knew. There's no sense in dwelling on the 'what if's' though. I know that that's hard. It's been hovering ever since and it was something that he himself was not able to overcome. Because of everything he was to me though, I know that he would not want us to be trapped like he was. It was such a tragic trap too. It was his love that let me live and yet it was his love that led him here.

Love is not supposed to be the dark in someone's life. Love is not supposed to be the drain. Love is supposed to be the solace and that's what I want this day to be about. I want for Bastian to find solace and for all of us here to find solace in the love we shared for him."

She ended with a tearful smile and Kurt's heart broke for her. She clearly grew up with a boy that he had never known. She was probably the only one he felt safe around and so the boy she knew was not tainted with fear. He was open and free with her and showed her love that Kurt never knew he was capable of. He had never wanted Sebastian to die but never before had he wanted so much for him to still be alive. She glanced out into the crowd between drying her tears on the back of her hand and Kurt couldn't bring himself to look in her direction. He didn't want her to have to see the person who had let her beloved brother die.

He never thought this day would be easy but it was already proving tougher than he expected. His teeth were like a vice, clamped relentlessly on the inside of his cheek in order to prevent the tears. Crying was acceptable at funerals but he knew that once he started, he'd never stop. He didn't realize his hand was doing the same around Blaine's until Blaine let go.

"Sorry," he whispered, turning to his friend.

"It's fine," Blaine shrugged off, sticking his hand in his pocket. His eyes were glued on the empty spot where Sebastian's sister had been speaking. He wouldn't even look at Kurt.

"You, okay?" He asked gently, trying to gage where Blaine's head was. All he got in response was pursed nod. It was all just very cold, a drastic change from how warm and open and supportive he had been when they had stepped out of the car. It worried him and he spent the majority of the next speech, from a high school friend, trying to figure out what had happened.

Kurt scanned the guests to see if it was one of the attendees that had triggered Blaine's retreat. Blaine didn't have any enemies though and where they were standing, they were surrounded by college friends. Over to his far right he spotted a familiar, short brunette, dabbing her eyes in a not so subtle manner with a handkerchief. Sure it was Rachel but she seemed harmless standing by herself and clearly not being awarded the attention she was hoping for. He looked back to Blaine to see if Rachel was the problem. His gaze was still directed forwards and Kurt thought that maybe he might have simply been ensuring that he'd avoid eye contact with Rachel but upon closer look, he saw that Blaine was still watching Sebastian's sister. Or maybe he was watching the way she was running her fingers over the words of her speech.

The speech. That was it. Kurt couldn't believe he had missed it. Unfortunately, it seemed as if Blaine hadn't.

Blaine kept his distance for the remainder of the service and during the drive to the Smythe house where the wake was being held. The Smythe house was more of a mansion. Stepping through the huge, oak, double doors, transported him into an upbringing of wealth and privilege. It rounded out Sebastian's spoiled brat attitude but also sadly explained his lost soul because although the house was filled with paintings, vases, oversized candle holders, and chandeliers, there was nothing that made it home.

His inspection of the expansive house was cut short by Blaine excusing himself from his side and Kurt being forced to face the other guests. As much as he used to berate his college friends about being morons, they weren't stupid. Based on the quiet murmurings and the bits and pieces of various conversation that Kurt overheard, everyone had finally understood what had eaten at Sebastian for all these years. It was as if his worst nightmare was coming true. At any second everyone would turn away from their little groups and their gaze would zero in on him and suddenly they would somehow all know. They would know that he had been lying to them all these years and that he had known about Sebastian and could have helped him. They would hate him. Blaine, the most caring and understanding and compassionate person on the planet, his best friend, would hate him. He couldn't even being to image his life without Blaine and not only without him, but knowing he had had him and lost him and that he was out there hating him. In fact, Blaine had probably already figured it out. It would certainly explain his disappearance into the crowd. Blaine was always the smart one after all.

The paranoia mixed quickly with the guilt of not only being the only one to know about Sebastian and failing to help him, but also because here he was worried about himself at someone else's funeral. This slew of toxic emotion led him to the kitchen and away from everyone else. Initially he had just wanted to be alone but then he spotted bottles of champagne. He was never particularly fond of champagne but it was all they had and he helped himself to a bottle and gulped it down readily, willing his mind to succumb to the liquid intoxication and escape the mental one of his current state.

It didn't take long before the warmth of alcohol flowed through his veins. Kurt was suddenly very glad for not eating breakfast because the warmth felt good and wooziness felt good and that hollow feeling in his stomach began to feel not so hopeless. He found a counter to lean against as he opened his second bottle to avoid any embarrassing stumbling and the overhang conveniently hid the bottle, a feature he was plenty grateful for when he spotted Blaine for the first time in what seemed like hours and he was headed Kurt's way.

"Kurty!" Came a shill voice from to his left. Before he could even process who belonged to the voice, his mind a little sluggish, there was a petit brunette wrapped around his neck. "Oh my god, it's been so long. I can't believe that we've never gotten together. I mean I'm usually busy with rehearsal and all and now with this little one…" Rachel yammered, pointing proudly at her stomach.

Kurt's eyes widened when he saw the bump. It was definitely a shock. He never pictured Rachel starting a family before making it big. It had always been Broadway or bust for her. Although, having a mini Berry to parade around seemed right up her ally.

"I tried to pick a dress that wouldn't show it off because it didn't seem appropriate but you hated Sebastian so I figured I could tell you. Have you seen Blaine? I wanted to tell him too."

Kurt peered over her shoulder to where he had last seen his friend. Blaine was nowhere to be seen though. Kurt suddenly had the urge to slap him for leaving him with Rachel. So much for his knight in shining armor. "Uh, you just missed him."

"Oh. Oh well. I'll keep looking. I wanted to thank him. This little miracle happened my first time and that makes it just all the more special don't you think?"

"Sure?" Kurt answered, a little thrown by where this conversation was heading. "I gue – Wait. First time with your… fiancé?" Kurt asked, noticing the small but elegant diamond on her ring finger.

"Uh, well yeah but first time ever is what I meant," Rachel smiled unabashed.

Kurt's brows furrowed as his brain tried to process this. Someone was lying here and although Blaine had never been that guy, if Rachel was anything, it was brutally honest. "Did you, um, know that Blaine had told all the guys that you two were doing it? He, uh, he even slept over at your place."

"Oh really?" Rachel questioned pointedly, moving her hands dramatically to her hips. "Is that so?"

Kurt could recognize an enraged Rachel Berry anywhere and cursed himself for the alcohol induced lack of filter. This was going to get ugly.

"Well now I really have to find Blaine because let me tell you, Kurt Hummel," she punctuated with force by shoving her pointer finger into his chest with every word. "I practically threw myself at that boy. I mean have you seen him? He's gorgeous. And yet if we were alone, he would jump across the room and make up some lame excuse about studying or being tired. It was like he was revolted by me or something but I got over it because – and I hate to say this because of the circumstances and all – but I quickly came to the conclusion that he was gay."

"Excuse me," was all Kurt could manage before pulling the bottle of Champagne out and trying to drown everything he had just heard.

"I see," Rachel snipped. "Well I'll leave you alone. I have more pertinent business to attend to anyways."

Kurt watched her storm off in perfect two year old fashion from behind his bottle. It wasn't until she was out of sight that he realized exactly where she was going and frankly, there was no way she was going to get to him first. She wasn't the only one with business revolving Blaine Anderson once she had something to tear into, she would not let up for hours.

Storming off after Rachel though was easier said than done however. Apparently her judging look at his eager consumption was warranted as he stumbled over his first step. And his second. Before he even attempted his third, Rachel was long gone and he had no idea where to begin looking for Blaine. He couldn't afford to dedicate any brain cells to figure it out either because finding expensive, one of a kind, solid oak furniture to support himself and not spilling his only source of solace was taking all he had. By the time he made it out of the kitchen and halfway through the dining room, Kurt had completely forgotten his mission in the first place.

"Whoa, whoa there. I think you need some air," a voice appeared out of nowhere followed by a pair of solid arms.

"Mmm fine," he answered, bringing the bottle back to his mouth. It was intercepted before he could quench his thirst though. "Hey!" he protested, turning to face the thief. "Oh. Blaine. I, uh, I think R-Rachel's looking for you."

"Yeah? Well this gives me a perfect excuse to avoid her. Come on, let's go," Blaine responded guiding him back through the kitchen and out the backdoor.

"I think I'm looking for you too actually," Kurt marveled after the fresh air hit his lungs and seemed to reawaken some on his brain cells that had gone comatose.

"And why's that?" Blaine prompted, leading them across the expansive lawn towards the lake just beyond the trees that lined the yard.

"I can't 'member."

"Well can you remember why you picked up this bottle of champagne? You hate champagne."

"'Cause everyone was staring at me and you ran off. And then you left me with her and she started talkin 'bout her sex life which eww," Kurt rambled only half aware of his surroundings and what he was saying. "Apparently, you wouldn't know 'bout that though. Turns out Blaine Anderson isn't the stand-up guy he claims to be. He's just a big fucking liar who exploits girls and abandons his friends."

"Fuck," Blaine sighed collapsing down on the sand.

"My s-sentiments 'xactly," Kurt replied sitting next to him. He didn't really have another option without anything to lean against.

They sat in silence for a long while. Blaine had his head in hands and Kurt was simply concentrating on trying to make the world stop spinning. Staring out at the water seemed to help a little. It was so big and still, a grounding point.

"Bloody lake," he blurted suddenly.

"Why do hate the lake?" Blaine asked with a chuckle.

"Because it backs onto this bloody house which is where that bloody asshole called home and that bloody asshole reminds me that I'm just as big of a lying, scum bag as you."

"Why would you even…" Blaine began to refute, turning to him with those wide hazel eyes, full of concern. He stopped though. He simply stared at Kurt, clogs working furiously behind his questioning eyes. If Kurt had dared to glance in his friend's direction he would have recognized the look as the one he'd been dreading his entire life. "You were sleeping with him weren't you?" Blaine asked simply after turning his gaze back out over the water.

It was too calm. The sun was sitting peacefully low in the sky on the other side of the lake and the only sound was the water lapping at shore. Kurt had always imagined this moment to be one of chaos, one where his world was collapsing or blowing up, where he was being accused and had to take up arms to defend himself. Blaine didn't seem to be calling in the brigade though and the alcohol in his system had numbed him too much that even his heart beat remained steady. It was eerie really.

"How did you know?" he asked quietly, succumbing to the inevitable.

"'Cause I was sleeping with him too."